Natasha's Story
by Idril of the Mountains
Summary: Black Widow's perspective, taking place a month or two after the events of The Winter Soldier. Rated T because of action/violence scenes WITH injury. I do not own any of the characters in this story.
1. Chapter 1

He was sitting at her kitchen table, polishing his bow. For some reason, that irked her. Would he ever stop thinking about killing? Usually, that was all she thought about, but since, well, since the Winter Soldier incident, with, with Steve, she had thought about other things. "Natasha, you want to go get a burger?"

"No." She replied from her bedroom, where she was brushing her hair. "I have other plans for tonight."

"Oh, come on." Clint sounded more annoyed than disappointed. "May I guess what these other plans are?"

"If you like." Natasha dug through her dresser. She knew the perfume was there somewhere.

"You're doing something with HIM." Clint stated, his jaw set.

"Who are you talking about?" Natasha asked, coming out of the bedroom as she put on her earrings.

"Captain Rogers. That's it. You're going somewhere with him."

"Why does that matter?" Natasha asked, dryly. "I'm allowed to do whatever I want."

"Come on, Nat. We've been through so much together, as a team, and then this frozen veteran comes along, and you fall all over him. What about me?" Clint asked, anger welling up inside of him. "Have you forgotten what I did for you?"

"No." Natasha murmured. Nothing could make her forget that. "But I haven't forgotten what HE did either. When Hydra was trying to kill us, he saved my life, Clint. You did it once, but where were you when I needed you in DC? Hmm?"

Clint's face looked pained. "I see now. I didn't want you to say all that, Natasha."

"Would you rather me have lied?" Natasha asked, walking into the kitchen. She was dressing up for this date. A fancy black dress, black flats, earrings, perfume.

"You never dressed up for me, Nat." Clint raged, preparing to leave.

As she heard him running down the stairs, heard his truck pulling away, Natasha whispered, "But Clint, you never asked me to." Sitting down at the table, she buried her hands in her face. A part of her life had run away just then. Then she heard the motorcycle. Steve. Maybe Clint had just left her life. Maybe her old life was ending now. But she could have another life. A new life, with Steve.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, what's up?" Steve asked, as they sat in the fancy restaurant. "You're not very talkative."

"Am I ever talkative?" Natasha countered dryly. "I feel so out of place here. With all these dressed up people, y'know?"

"You look beautiful, Nat." Steve said, with a slight smile.

"You're a terrible liar." Natasha responded.

"You've said that to me before." Steve told her. "But I'm not lying. And anyway, that can't be what is bothering you."

"How do you know?" Natasha asked suspiciously. _Don't let him know. This is just between you and Clint._

"I can tell, Nat." Steve prepared to continue, but she cut him off.

"It's nothing." By now they were leaving the restaurant.

"Natasha." Steve jerked her back from the road. A van zoomed by. "Natasha. You're a terrible liar."

_Clint never would have done that. He took my arm. Helped me across the road. I don't need help. But he gave it to me anyway. I should be angry. But how can I be angry with him? _ _Natasha, get a hold of yourself. He's making you look weak. Stop seeing him. Men make you weak, Natasha. _"Don't toy with me, Rogers." She pulled away from him, and tried to leave quickly. Blast these flats! She couldn't move without them falling off. She took them off, and darted down a side alley. She could feel her hose ripping. She never cared about feminine stuff anyway.

"Natasha!" Steve sounded pained, as he chased after her. He caught up with her, just she was opening the door to her apartment. "Why?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. That night, she stayed awake. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Steve, or Clint. Each of them sad, in their own way. Maybe Clint _was _the right way to go, after all. She wasn't the right girl for Steve. He needed somebody good, like his "Peggy" had been. Not her. She rolled over. No more thinking on this subject. No more. Must sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, she dreaded seeing Steve. She considered calling in sick. Coulson would never be the wiser. Besides, even if Steve didn't come to work, just accessing the offices through the secret basement entrance would make the memories flood back. Finally, she crawled out of bed, and got herself a bowl of cereal. Sitting up rigidly straight at the table, she finally called Coulson. She was sick, she lied. No, she didn't think she was well enough to come in.

It surprised her, later that morning, as she was creating yet another false identity email address, that there was a knock on the door. Standing up, she looked through the tiny peephole. With Hydra about, you could never be too careful. It was Steve. She opened the door, slowly, and only poked her head out. "Yes?"

"Natasha, I'm sorry." Steve said, offering her a small bouquet of flowers.

"About what? You haven't done anything." Natasha countered, reluctantly accepting them. "Come in?"

Steve followed her in, shutting the door behind him. "Well, it was my fault that you and Clint broke up."

Natasha looked startled for a moment, and then bored. "Not really. I had my reasons, and it might not have included you."

Steve shook his head. "No, Nat. It was my fault. If I hadn't asked you out-"

"Listen Steve, don't make so much of yourself. Clint left of his own accord. Anyway, I don't need flowers as an apology. They just doesn't speak to me like they do to some people." She pushed them back across the table.

Steve took them awkwardly. "They weren't for that. I brought them because you were sick, right?"

Natasha coughed. "Oh. Well, thanks, I guess. I'm busy now, could you?"

"Sure. I'll leave." He stood up, and exited without a further comment.

Natasha tried to concentrate on her laptop again.

As she ate her lunch, she began running random searches, looking for Hydra information. As an internet search ran, she went back to her room, and changed into her suit. Shoving her pistols into their pockets, she fastened her "Black Widow" cuffs on. As she returned to the laptop, she saw a website link that looked strangely suspicious. Clicking on it, she found some kind of social media.

Running a quick decryption gave her the coded messages sent in the HTML. "S. Founder located." "Cut off ONE head, TWO more shall take its place." "Noticed" "Assembled"

She quickly deduced the messages. "SHIELD founder located, team assemble at one o'clock, strike at two. Team assembled." Her eyes widened. Peggy. Jumping up, she hid the laptop, and raced out the door, calling Steve as she did.

"Rogers, may I help?"

"Steve, this is Nat. I just found something. They're going after Peggy."

She heard the sharp intake of breath. "How long do we have?"

Natasha checked her watch. "About 7 minutes. They're going to strike at two o'clock, and they're never late, Steve." A click from the other end of the line. He had hung up. Natasha ran, faster than she had ever run in her life. The nursing home wasn't too far away. Driving her car would take longer than running. When she reached it, she snuck up through the parking area. Her heart sank. The black sedan was already there, empty. She clicked on her radio. "Steve? I'm in the garage. I've cut the tires of their car. Get cops down here."

"Got it." Natasha could hear the strain in his voice. "Get up there as fast as you can."

"Roger that." Running up the stairs, she counted the levels. 1. 2. 3. 4. Shoving open the door of level 5, she raced down the hallway. At the far end, three men, dressed in black, were just turning a corner. She checked her watch. 2:03. She was too late. Flipping on her radio again, she contacted Steve. "I'm shadowing them now, Rogers, back to the lot." As she raced past a nurses station, she said, "Call EMTs. Room 509 has had a medical issue."

The nurse looked confused. "What kind of issue?"

"Did you see those men in black? They killed her." Natasha said, racing on. The nurse could deal with everything involving that mess. She needed to get those agents of Hydra down.

Finally, she reached the garage. The men were climbing into their sedan. Nobody had arrived yet. Natasha got down behind a car, and fired a shot through one of the windows. It cracked. A second shot shattered the window, and her third shot compromised the driver. Shots were returned, but Natasha quickly changed her position. The engine gunned, but nothing happened. She fired again. The men were getting angry now. She saw one of them radioing something in. BANG. The cord was severed. The remaining agent climbed out of the car, assault rifle ready. He was about to blow up the car she had hidden behind, when another sharp crack sounded, and he fell, dead, to the ground. Coulson stood there, typical sunglasses.

"Nice work, Romanoff." Coulson smirked, and then spun around. The last man in the car, the only survivor, had just tried to escape. The pistol sounded again, simultaneous with the police sirens.

Later, Natasha sat in the parking lot, trying to find some comforting word for Steve. The four stretchers, each covered with a sheet, were being loaded into a van. Sharon Carter came up to the pair. "What happened? I came as soon as I got the message. Coulson just said that something had happened to her."

"Hydra." Natasha stated. "I found a website that they were using to pass messages, and found out just minutes too late." She passed Steve, squeezing his hand briefly. She regretted it, though. Over the years, she knew that emotion meant pain. And pain made you talk. And if you talked, you died.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks later, Natasha was still trying to work things out. Clint wasn't talking to her. Typical Yankee. Just go off and sulk, when he got mad. Well, she certainly wasn't going to beg for his apologies. Steve had been silent as well.

Coulson knew nothing about any of her problems. He had told her to prepare for a mission, with Steve, in a week.

This, of course, included moving all of her stuff to a secret place, forging identity materials, and daily meetings with Coulson.

She had to speak with Steve, and he had to speak with her. They kept their conversations on strict business, though. No more talk of dates, no playful banter like in the old days.

When they reached Kansas City, the location of their mission, Natasha went alone into the old hotel. "I'll see you, back at the car, in fifteen minutes. You can check yourself in."

Steve nodded. "All right. Natasha, wait. You know as well as I do that these missions are dangerous. We ought to make up. It's not okay for us to part enemies."

"Don't be silly, Victor." Natasha obstinately used the alias he had assumed for this mission. "We aren't enemies."

"What I really mean is this. Can we try a date again?"

Natasha pulled away, not answering, as she walked inside, and into the elevator. There was only one other person. Natasha leaned against the corner of the small square. It was dangerous to let people get behind you. On the second floor, two more people entered. When they were almost at the third floor, the first man hit the emergency button, and drew a gun. Natasha instinctively pulled her pistol out, but another one of the thugs smacked it out of her hand, and slammed her against the wall of the elevator.

"On your knees, Romanoff." She couldn't resist. Her head was spinning. _Stay calm. Scream. _As if the man had read her thoughts he smacked her across the face. "Don't you dare make a sound."

When the elevator began moving again, they reached the third floor. One of the men put a thin knife to her throat, by draping his arm around her shoulder. "Come on, spy. We're going to leave now." Natasha barely breathed. Any movement could send the razor sharp blade through her lungs. He took the knife away when they raced down the stairs, into the waiting car, and away. They had handcuffs, cold metal biting into her flesh. She had escaped from simple handcuffs before. But these were huge, wrapping her wrists with a six inch metal band, solid all the way around.

"So, who gave you the orders to kidnap me?" Natasha asked, probingly.

"It doesn't matter." The driver said, as they entered a tunnel.

"Where are we going?" Natasha asked, biting her tongue as she said it. Never ask for information. That always makes them angry.

"Shut up." The man sitting next to her slapped her face.

Natasha showed no emotion. There was only one consolation. Steve would know something had happened. It had been over fifteen minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve did know something had happened. When Natasha failed to show up, he immediately left the hotel area, and called Coulson.

"This is Target Fish. Problem, Victor?"

"She's gone." Steve said, barely able to keep the panic out of his voice. He realized now that he cared for her. And he couldn't lose her like he'd just lost Peggy. "Nat-I mean Brenda, she's gone."

"I'll be there in two hours." Coulson stated briefly. "And Victor. This kind of investigation is tough. Don't go back to that hotel until you hear from me. If somebody knew about Brenda, you're the next target."

"That won't be happening." Steve said, hanging up. What won't be happening? That he would be kidnapped as well? Or that he wouldn't stay away from the hotel." He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He went to a payphone, and tried to call her number. No answer. He tried again.

"This number is not available." Steve almost hung up again, but was distracted by the voice. Not the monotone computer. A real person. One who sounded ominously familiar. There was breathing the background.

Click. The line was dead. Steve hung up angrily, and headed back to the car, where he replayed the recording of the caller, from his smartphone. Who was that voice? Something finally clicked. Rumlow. But he had died in the Triskelion, or had he? He quickly called Coulson back.

"Rogers" Coulson was annoyed "I told you, I'll be there in two hours with a team."

"This is different. I called her cell phone." Steve could hear the sigh.

"Rogers, you have to be one of the biggest idiots-"

"Hear me out, Coulson. I called from a payphone. Nobody could track that."

Coulson snorted. "You'd be surprised."

"Coulson. It's Hydra." Steve said, lowering his voice. "Rumlow.. He answered her phone, and said the number was unavailable. I thought he was dead."

Another snort. "He's not."

"I get that." Steve sighted, annoyed. "We have to do something. They'll kill her."

"I'll be there in two hours." Coulson patiently repeated, hanging up.

"That's not good enough!" Steve yelled into the phone. Coulson was already gone. Natasha was right. It was dangerous to love somebody as a SHIELD agent.


	6. Chapter 6

They knew her well, that fact could not have shown more clearly. The room where she was held, plain, a small barred window in one corner, stone walls, floor, and one light bulb in the ceiling, could not be escaped from. She was sitting on a metal chair, immobile from the floor. There was no way she could use this one to knock out her captors. Her wrists were fastened to the arms, her ankles to the legs. There would be no escaping. She knew who had kidnapped her. Hydra. The only logical explanation. When had they found her? She had covered her trails so well since D.C. She would have to get the interrogator to tell her.

Shockingly, Rumlow came in. She hadn't seen him since D.C. He was a little shorter, more scars, and more hate in his eyes. "Romanoff."

"Rumlow." She met his gaze unflinchingly. Another enemy, and just another interrogation. Nothing out of the ordinary. But she knew that wan't true. She could not control this session. Anything could happen, and she could not help it.

He came over. "What was your mission?"

"Are you going to complete it for me?" She asked, cocking her head a little.

Rumlow strode over, and slapped her in the face. "No games, Romanoff. What was your mission?"

"You know I won't tell you." Natasha said. _Don't let him know you're scared. Don't be scared._

"And you know that I'll MAKE you tell me." He slapped her again. And again. She realized he was wearing a glove. A stiff glove. Her lip began bleeding. When he left, her face was bruised, and swelling.

"I can last. I can make this." Natasha said, "I have to make it."

She almost changed her mind, when the tall woman came in, the woman she did not recognize. There were several of them, grabbing her arms, removing her from the chair. Fastening her wrists high up the wall. Then the whip. Five strokes. They didn't go through her suit. Fools, not to remove it. The woman grabbed her chin. "Where is Rogers?"

Natasha spit in her face, and cursed in Russian. The woman slammed her face against the wall, and ten more strokes fell. Still, only a small pain in her back. Her head was ringing, and she could feel her lip and her nose bleeding.

"Who sent you on the mission?"

"Can't you guess, idiot?" Natasha asked, sarcastically. _Of course they don't know Coulson survived. Yet. And I won't be the person to tell them._ When she realized that they didn't even know Nick was still alive, she almost laughed. Except her mouth was too swollen.

Finally, they left. Natasha, for some reason, remained on the wall. Her tiptoes could just touch the ground, relieving a little pressure off her wrists. The pain was incredible. She knew somebody would come. Somebody would get her out, eventually. If she survived.


End file.
